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AN ECOLOGICAL HISTORYGREENWICH BAY:

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Rhode Island

Additional copies of this publication are available from the Rhode Island Sea Grant Communications Office, University of Rhode Island Bay Campus,Narragansett, RI 02882-1197. Order P1676.

Loan copies of this publication are available from the National Sea Grant Library, Pell Library Building, University of Rhode Island Bay Campus,Narragansett, RI 02882-1197. Order RIU-B-03-001.

This publication is sponsored by Rhode Island Sea Grant under NOAA Grant No. NA 16RG1057 and by the University of Rhode Island Coastal ResourcesCenter. The views expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of NOAA or any of its sub-agencies. The U.S.Government is authorized to produce and distribute reprints for governmental purposes notwithstanding any copyright notation that may appear hereon.

Sustainable Coastal Communities Report #4404

This document should be referenced as:Kennedy, S., and V. Lee. 2003. Greenwich Bay: An Ecological History. Rhode Island Sea Grant, Narragansett, R.I. 32pp.

Editor: Monica Allard Cox

Designer: Wendy Andrews-Bolster, Puffin Enterprises

Printed on recycled paper

Cover photos: Aerial courtesy city of Warwick Planning Department. Historic photo courtesy Providence Journal. Children photo by Sue Kennedy.Opposite page: Historic map courtesy Varnum Memorial Armory.Page 13: Photo courtesy Anne Holst.Page 23: Buttonwoods photo courtesy Nancy Dickerman.Aerial photos courtesy city of Warwick Planning Department: p. 3 Brushneck, Buttonwoods coves; p. 16 upper Warwick Cove; p. 18 Potowomut and Baker’s Creek.Artifacts images courtesy Alan Leveillee, Public Archaeology Laboratory: pp. 21, 22.Photo courtesy Louise Blackwood: p. 5 (couple). Poem p. 30 courtesy Louise Blackwood.Photos courtesy The Rhode Island Historical Society©: pp. 6, (View inside the Kier Room of the Apponaug Print Works. Set 3 #14, c. 1900, Albumen print, Neg. no., RHi X3 2025),

20, (Scalloptown, East Greenwich, R.I., c. 1930, artist-Avery Lord, Safety negative, Neg. no., RHi X3 6718), 23, (Two Fishermen on Shore with Clams, Rake and Basket,September 4, 1930, artist-Avery Lord, Glass negative, Neg. no. RHi X3 9276).

Photos by Sue Kennedy: pp. 4, 7, 8 (litter), 10, 11 (shellfisherman), 14, 17, 19, 24, 25, 26, (shellfish processing, cows), inside back cover (boy).Photos by Monica Allard Cox: pp. 5 (boat, shellfisherman, and researcher), 9, 11 (Arthur Ganz), 20, 26 (boat), 27 (restaurant), 29 (marina).Photos by Charlie Festa: pp. 8 (pipe), 28, 29 (quahog).Photos by Kristina Perelli: p. 31.Providence Journal Photos: Cover, pp. 5 (hurricane), 12, 15.Puffin Enterprises: Inside covers, pp. 22 (schooner), 23 (Oakland Beach Draw Bridge postcard, published by David H. Berry, Oakland Beach, R.I.), 24 (waves), 25 (Warwick

Lighthouse postcard, published by The Hugh C. Leighton Co., Portland Maine), 29 (Nock’s Shipyard, East Greenwich, R.I., postcard, published by Morris Berman, New Haven,Conn.), 32 (Yacht Club, Oakland Beach, R.I., postcard, published by F.E. Booth, Oakland Beach, R.I.).

Sea Grant photos: p. 11 (diver and scallop).Photos by Adam Zitello: pp. 27 (top), 30 (boy).

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GREENWICH BAY: An Ecological History

By Sue Kennedy and Virginia Lee

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Brushneck, Buttonwoods coves

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1. Introduction

2. Water Quality

3. Habitat

4. Flood and Storm Hazards

5. Geologic Processes

6. Cultural and Historic Resources

7. Land Use and Economy

8. Special Area Management Planning

9. References

Table of Contents

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“In the past 200 years the waterfront has run

the gamut from slave trading to industrial

fishing; from the Scalloptown scandal to a

prime source of livelihood for the town; from

a bustling port of entry to a yachtsman’s

dream of a safe harbor. Without the bay

we would never have been; for which we

should be everlastingly grateful to those who

first settled here.”

—Martha R. McPartland, longtime librarian

of the East Greenwich Free Library

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IntroductionWith five square miles of shallow water and five protected coves, Greenwich Bay is an estuary—a

mixing basin for salt and fresh water—that has provided people with food, shelter, transportation, trade,and recreational opportunities for centuries. The waters that feed Greenwich Bay pass through a 26square miles of watershed including parts of Warwick, East Greenwich, and, to a smaller degree, WestWarwick. The area has long been home to industry and agriculture, not to mention thousands of residents.

This Book Greenwich Bay: An Ecological History is designed to celebrate the best of Greenwich Bay, while

examining the issues facing the bay. Chapters cover the theme areas of water quality, habitat, flood andstorm hazards, geologic processes, cultural and historic resources, and land use and economy, which areillustrated by vignettes—personal anecdotes that provide a look at the issues through the eyes of anindividual with ties to the bay.

Greenwich Bay HistoryIn colonial times, seaport villages sprouted

around bay coves as commerce and travel provedsafer and quicker by sea than by rudimentaryroads. These sheltered coves were also attractivefor their access to fresh water, forest lumber, andseafood—especially shellfish. During the IndustrialAge, families escaped city heat by flocking toresorts at Oakland Beach and Buttonwoods wherecommunity clambakes became a favorite summeractivity. Although the popularity of GreenwichBay resorts waned after the hurricanes of 1938and 1954, the bay area emerged as a center formarinas, yacht clubs, restaurants, boat retail andrepair services, and some of the most fertileshellfishing grounds on the East Coast.

Greenwich Bay TodayMore people than ever are using Green-

wich Bay for work and recreation, causingshellfishermen, recreational boaters, marinaoperators, environmentalists, and homeownersto compete for space. This increased use of thebay, along with residential and commercialdevelopment, has harmed bay waters withsewage discharge and stormwater runoff. Thechallenge persists to ensure that Greenwich Bayand its watershed remain a vital environmental,economic, recreational, and cultural resource forfuture generations.

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Never underestimate thepower of a Greenwich Bayneighborhood, says Jack Early, ofthe Defenders of Greenwich Bay,for these are the places wheretraditions of boating, clamming,and swimming run deep, and thewill to protect them is strong.

The Defenders, a young non-profit organization, represents oneof several neighborhood efforts toprotect the Greenwich Bayenvironment for the benefit ofresidents. With members fromneighborhoods such as Nausauket,Arnold’s Neck, Chepiwanoxet,Buttonwoods, Potowomut,Apponaug, and Early’s own CedarTree Point, the Defenders havecome together to preserveshoreline pastimes.

The group coalesced arounda contentious battle in 2002against an expansion plan by theGreenwich Bay Marina. Supportedby about 40 regular members, theDefenders convinced hundreds ofresidents to attend public hearingsabout the plan that was initiallyapproved and is now the subjectof a court appeal. Althoughgrappling with advocacy issues,the Defenders say they havegained invaluable experience andinsights that are shaping thegroup’s goals.

“People have come to seethe larger concern—that there isenormous stress on the bay, andwe need, through science andother resources, to figure out what

Neighborhoodspull togetherto save bayresources andfamily traditions

the bay’s threshold is for all thebad stuff that is being done to it.How much refuse can the bayprocess? To put it bluntly, howlong before the bay throws up?”Early says.

The Defenders, with avidboaters among them, areconcerned about boat pollutionand its impacts on shellfishing andbeach activity. “Goddard Park(beach) is closed more often, andthe feeling is that we’ve lost thecoves,” says Early. “It used to bethat children could play in theshallow waters of the bay, andyou could hear their voices up anddown the waterfronts. Now youhear, “Take ‘em out or they’ll getsick.”

Protecting the bay is no easytask, but Early says the neighbor-hood residents have the energyand desire to become activeparticipants in serious efforts tosave the resource. “Is it worthfighting for? Yes, because theseare places with nice traditions—the beach bonfires on the Fourthof July, the children’s Halloweenparades, the sense of these formersummer resorts sharing theircommunity beaches—all you haveto do is have a place off the streetto park your car,” says Early. “Youbring your cooler and your rubbertire and you can enjoy the beachin Warwick—these are thingspeople don’t want to give up. Thisis our cause.”

2: WATER QUALITYAfter pollution forced the closure of Greenwich Bay to

shellfishing in 1992, the contaminated beds became a stark symbol ofthe fragility of the bay habitat. Although cleanup efforts allowed thebay to partially reopen, pollution still impairs water quality. Storm-water runoff, leaking septic systems, and homes with sewage pipesillegally tied into storm drains introduce nutrients—nitrogen andphosphorus—and bacteria to the bay. The nutrients foster excessivegrowth of algae, which consumes oxygen from the water, making itdifficult for certain bay species to survive. Meanwhile, pathogens,which may cause human illness, force closures of shellfish beds andbeaches alike.

Manufacturing history leaves legacyof pollution in Greenwich Bay

The manufacturing mills built around Apponaug and Greenwichcoves in the 1800s discharged untreated textile and metal waste andsewage into the bay. The surface of Apponaug Cove is said to havebubbled with red and yellow suds from mill chemicals. Anne Holst, aformer R.I. Department of Environmental Management (RIDEM)conservation officer, notes that “kids in the 1930s and 1940s used towork (Greenwich) Cove for extra money, but they never knew whatcolor the shellfish were going to be—it all depended on what colorthe Bleachery (a former East Greenwich fabric dyeing company) wasusing that day. They’d have to hose it all off.”

Yet, the impacts of early industry on bay water paled in com-parison to the later effects of suburban development. After WorldWar II, returning soldiers took advantage of a federal bill that enabledthem to buy new homes in suburban neighborhoods. The homeswere often built on half-acre lots and discharged sewage that seepedinto the water table and the bay. The problem worsened as summercottages in Oakland Beach, Nausauket, Buttonwoods, andPotowomut, which were equipped to handle seasonal septic needs,became year-round homes. Automobile pollution also became aproblem as rain washed increasing amounts of oil, chemical, andmetal deposits off highways and parking lots into the bay.

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Communities improve wastewatertreatment facilities

Some early steps were taken by local governments to stoppollution, such as sewage, from entering the bay. Decades ago, EastGreenwich and Warwick started sewering portions of the watershed.The town of East Greenwich has diligently maintained the EastGreenwich Wastewater Treatment Facility, which was built on thebanks of Greenwich Cove in 1929. Shortly, the plant will introducenew technology to treat wastewater more safely and cleanly. Inaddition, a municipal $6.5-million upgrade will implement third-stage(“tertiary”) treatment to remove nitrogen from wastewater. “We willhave very, very strict discharge limits for nitrogen,” says Joseph Macari,facility superintendent. “I believe we will be the first facility in the stateto use ultraviolet disinfection to kill all bacteria before discharging.”Presently, the facility treats 25 percent of East Greenwich homes andbusinesses. Upcoming sewer installations will potentially double thetown’s treatment capacity.

Warwick’s sewage issues are different from those of East Green-wich. In Warwick, some septic systems discharge to the bay, but thecity’s wastewater treatment facility, constructed in the early 1960s,discharges to the Pawtuxet River, outside the Greenwich Bay water-shed. Therefore, when more residences tie into the sewer system,sewage discharge to Greenwich Bay will automatically decrease. With a$137.5 million bond, the Warwick Sewer Authority (WSA) is installingsewer lines in neighborhoods along the bay, including Oakland Beachand Chepiwanoxet and portions of Warwick Neck, Buttonwoods, andApponaug. Sewer pipes are available to about 70 percent of Warwickhomes and almost all industrial properties, although many homes inthe watershed have not hooked up to the sewers. Water quality inGreenwich Bay is expected to improve dramatically once all thebusinesses and homes in the watershed are hooked up to sewers.

Government, scientists, andbusinesses unite to clean bay

Immediately following the 1992 shellfish closure, an effort beganto highlight the importance of improving wastewater treatment and togenerate community support for cleaning the bay. Spearheaded ingreat part by then-Warwick Mayor Lincoln D. Chafee, the 1993Greenwich Bay Initiative proclaimed it would “Bring Back the Bay” and

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brought together government, business, academic, and communityprograms committed to improving bay water quality. A cadre ofprojects studied Greenwich Bay habitat, identified pollution sourcesand impacts, recommended potential solutions for restoring theenvironment, and addressed inadequate sewage disposal, storm-water runoff, and waste discharge from boats. The initiative played asignificant role in convincing Warwick voters to support the bondissue for sewer projects.

A Rhode Island Sea Grant–sponsored research collaborative thatwas part of the initiative and was based at the University of RhodeIsland (URI) gathered information about the impacts of pollution andstorm water on the bay environment, with additional funding fromthe R.I. Aquafund Program and the city of Warwick. To assist thecommunities, researchers advised the WSA on priority areas forsewering, and URI Cooperative Extension tested alternative septicsystems for hard-to-sewer areas.

Also as part of the initiative, the R.I. Marine Trades Association(RIMTA) helped develop a program that taught marina employeesand boaters clean boating practices. The program helped establish 11boat pumpout facilities on the bay and created best managementpractices to address storm-water runoff, fuel station design, solid andfish waste disposal, chemical storage, petroleum control, and boatcleaning operations. RIMTA worked with RIDEM on a bill, passed in1998, to make Rhode Island the first state to prohibit boaters fromdischarging sewage into marine waters. Still, the law relies on boaterslargely to police themselves, an effort that tends to thin in busysummer months if lines at pumpout stations are long and equipmentmalfunctions.

In 1996, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency praised theinitiative for making progress toward “the goal … to open theshellfishing beds unconditionally and to ensure that a sustainableyield shellfish management plan is in place to protect the bay in thefuture.”

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Greenwich Bay offers natural protection from the elements,

enabling fishermen to collect shellfish all winter long.10

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Growing up on GreenwichBay and “messing around withboats” is how Arthur Ganz, RIDEMsupervising marine biologist, cameto know and appreciate the bay’sprolific shellfish habitat. “It has asingular kind of geometry andgeology that together make the bayan amazing place for growing andharvesting shellfish,” says Ganz.“People have done their best tomess the bay up, yet it’s still anincredibly productive place forshellfish, especially in Greenwichand Warwick coves. To me,Greenwich Cove is the eighthwonder of the world.”

Nutrient-rich freshwaterinflows, abundant phytoplankton,bottom composition of sand andmud, salinity, shallow depths, andweather protection are key reasonswhy “big mounds of shellfish”grow at the mouths of bay tribu-taries, says Ganz, and populate the“classic clam flats” of Cedar TreePoint, Nausauket, Oakland Beach,and Buttonwoods. “The flats arevery shallow—you can walk out300 to 400 feet in some places andbe surrounded by whole areas ofsoft-shell clams.”

Greenwich Bay offers naturalprotection from the elements,enabling fishermen to collectshellfish all winter long. “The bayallows you to get in out of thewind, and that’s important in thecold months,” says Ganz.

The soft-shell clam thrives inshallow intertidal zones, says Ganz,while oyster, which is pickier,prefers the low salinity and hard-rock bottoms of the upper end of

Greenwich Cove and the farreaches of the Potowomut River.The bay quahog ranges from theintertidal zone to depths of 40feet or more and flourishes inwell-aerated sand and mudbottoms, but qhahogs are “hardyanimals that are very resistant toanoxic conditions and can with-stand pressures put on them,”Ganz says.

He knows firsthand thatpollution, such as industrialchemicals, has affected the shell-fish environment for decades. “Iremember going to the Appon-aug bridge when I was kid, andyou’d see that whatever dye colorthe Apponaug Mill was using thatday, that was the color of thewater.”

To help keep the shellfishindustry alive, Ganz, who hashandled the state’s shellfishmanagement program for 30years, works on governmenttransplant operations, such as inthe photo on page 26, that enableshellfish to clean themselves ofpollution. Efforts like this ensurethat Narragansett Bay remains aleader in the regional shellfishingindustry. Only Great South Bay ofLong Island is producing qualityshellfish at a similar level, saysGanz.

“The regional quality marketreally keeps an eye on Narra-gansett Bay shellfishing, andGreenwich Bay is critical to that.”

Greenwich Cove is the“eighth wonder of theworld” to shellfishingexpert

3: HABITATThe Greenwich Bay estuarine habitat is legendary for supporting

one of the richest shellfishing environments on the Northeast coast.When unacceptable water quality forced the state to close GreenwichBay to shellfishing in 1992, restoration of this fishery became apressing issue.

Shellfish feed by filtering phytoplankton, microscopic plants,from seawater. In a polluted environment like Greenwich Bay, shellfishalso ingest bacteria from septic waste and storm water runoff, makingthe shellfish unsuitable for human consumption. Nutrients from thewaste and runoff also fertilize fast-growing phytoplankton andseaweeds. The plants produce oxygen during the day, but use it atnight for respiration and deplete most of the gas as they die anddecompose. Deprived of oxygen, organisms on the bottom of the bayand in the water column cannot live or reproduce. Some animalsadapt to the compromised habitat and survive, while other specieseither leave or die off.

Greenwich Bay is closed to shellfish harvesting following signifi-cant rainfall, and is open during dry periods. Still, the bay continues tosupport a thriving shellfish resource that plays a significant role in theNarragansett Bay winter quahog (hard-shell clam) fishery. Transplant-ing shellfish from the contaminated coves of Greenwich Bay to theclean waters of the West Passage ofNarragansett Bay supports this fisheryand restores local shellfish popula-tions. Shellfish are transplanted sothey can flush themselves of bacteria,grow, and be harvested for food.Collaborative shellfish transplantoperations between the RIDEM andthe R.I. Shellfishermen’s Associationensure shellfish stocks are availablefor market.

East Greenwich’s shellfishing

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Warwick endured the worstproperty damage in the state,losing more than 700 perma-nent residences and hundredsof summer homes.

The 1938 Hurricane

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Remembering theHurricane of 1938

When the Hurricane of 1938hit Greenwich Bay, Anne CrawfordAllen Holst, a lifelong Warwickresident with deep ties to EastGreenwich, recorded the naturaldisaster hourly. Holst, who wasnationally recognized in the 1930sas a groundbreaking femalefirefighter and aviator, organizedher own fire department in 1931and was named fire warden forone-third of the state. Immediatelyafter the hurricane, Holst flewalong the shore of NarragansettBay searching for signs of life andradioed reports to her fellowfirefighters, or “smoke-eaters.”

Today, her daughter AnneHolst, another “first” lady—RIDEM’s first female conservationofficer—owns Clouds Hill, a 29-acre Warwick estate on GreenwichBay that served as her mother’shome base and is now a bed-and-breakfast and horse boardingfarm. Holst grew up listening tothe stories of her mother’s braverescues during the hurricane, andinherited the journals that describethose experiences. “My motherloved to write. She kept a portabletypewriter wherever she went, sothat even when the power wentout, she could still record her

thoughts,” says Holst. Below is anedited journal excerpt by AnneCrawford Allen Holst detailing herdays during and after the Hurri-cane of 1938.

Cowesett, Rhode Island, Septem-ber 21st, 1938 2:00 p.m: LillieMay calls up and says we are infor a very bad storm, and will Ikindly come down with my trailerand take her boats up from theshore. I agree.

Chepiwanoxet, R.I. 3:00 p.m.The wind is blowing at least sixtymiles an hour and the spray ofsalt, sand, and rain against ourfaces is terrific. It’s all we can doto get the boats aboard the trailer.I wonder just what kind of astorm we are in for?

Cowesett, 3:15 p.m. Back athouse I find the large ladder, asArms was lowering it, (it) broke inthe wind and fell on Arms’ wrist,fracturing a bone. I take him intothe house to give him First Aid,and the electric lights go off! Thewind is increasing. Trees are goingdown. This must be what they calla hurricane!

4: FLOOD AND STORMHAZARDS

Greenwich Bay, like other coastal regions worldwide, is experienc-ing population growth and increased development in low-lying, flood-prone areas of the watershed and the shoreline. Flood and stormhazards, and community responses to them, impact the physicalenvironment of the bay, but also shape how people live and work—especially how they build and protect homes and businesses.

Although people around Greenwich Bay have always sufferedlosses due to natural hazards, widespread storm destruction wasn’t feltuntil the manufacturing boom of the 20th century. For the first time,many wealthy merchants and factory owners from Providence,Warwick, and West Warwick built grand mansions and summer coloniesalong bay shores, while families boarded trolleys to cottage communi-ties and amusement parks perched along the Greenwich Bay shoreline.Businesses, schools, and public buildings multiplied around the baybasin, supported by steadily growing, if vulnerable, networks ofelectrical lines, water pipes, and roadways.

The Hurricane of 1938, the worst hurricane ever to hit RhodeIsland in modern times, caught the state completely unaware, killing262 people. Hundred-mile-an-hour winds combined with a 15- to 20-foot-high storm surge and 30-foot-high waves, causing $100 millionworth of damage (in 1938 dollars). Because much of the area aroundGreenwich Bay is located in a floodplain, the coastal parts of Warwickand East Greenwich were subjected to flood tides measuring more than13 feet above the normal high-water level. According to Warwick his-torian Donald D’Amato, Warwick endured the worst property damagein the state, losing more than 700 permanent residences and hundredsof summer homes. The hurricane also destroyed Rocky Point amuse-ment park, a Warwick icon located on Narragansett Bay. Its loss waswell documented and reports from the time demonstrate the fragility ofsuch shoreline recreation areas to hazards. According to a ProvidenceJournal Company publication, “Rocky Point, that Mecca of politiciansand shore dinner consumers, fell like a house of cards before thesoutheast fury. The roller coaster was shattered, the great dining hallthat could seat thousands was a soggy mass of lumber, a thousandbathing suits hung from the backwoods trees, and only the boilersstood where once a huge bath house had been. The oldest and mostfamous shore resort of the State was no more.”

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4:15 p.m. The 120-foot steel radiotower just came down! And thetrees are going down like nine-pins.I just got the fire truck out of thestation before a huge fir came downon the station. Bill’s radio house hasa big spruce down on it. And thewind seems to be increasing! Armsand I just tried to walk around thefront of the house, and the windknocked us both from our feet. Therain is straight salt water. I amsoaked to the skin. And the moan ofthe hurricane — never will I forgetthis noise in all my whole life.

5:00 p.m. Oh God, is this nevergoing to let up? It seems to getworse every minute. We haven’t gota tree left standing around thehouse! And the huge, six-footsquare granite block post on theportcouchere has been moved 1/4inch on its foundations by thiswind!

6:00 p.m. At last it seems to bedying down! Thank God, thankGod! Anyway Arms and I are goingto start to chop our way down tothe Main Road, so we can get a carthrough, if there is anyplace left togo. The tide must be over the MainRoad, because from here the GacoCorp. seems to be entirely underwater!

7:30 p.m. We reach the Main Road!I stop the first car we see coming.All roads are shut, blocked off byhigh tide and fallen trees. There isno communication, everything hasgone out. I run Arms home first offas he is worried about his family. AtApponaug the Bay has come upover the Post Road and you cannotgo through to Apponaug! I turnaround and head back to the house.There, I get out the fire truck, andtelling Nettie not to expect me backuntil she sees me, I head for EastGreenwich.

8:00 p.m. Arriving in East Green-wich I find chaos. At the FireStation, which seems to beheadquarters, I find everybody intown. They are bringing in peoplefrom everywhere, injured andhomeless. Scalloptown is wipedout. Potowomut, Sandy Point,Quonset Point, all the shore placesare gone clean. The houses werewashed away, carrying many totheir deaths. Mr. Silverman asks mewhat to do. He cannot find anybodyin charge of the Red Cross. I tellhim to take charge. I am unloadingthe generator and starting it up. Iflood-light the fire station. Heavenswhat that light means to thesepeople. It seems to restore theirmorale. Never have I seen anythinglike it! I’ll bet it’s the only electriclight on the west shore of the Bay,south of Providence.

8:30 p.m. Going into the telephoneexchange I find them in almost totaldarkness, working feverishly. Theyhave found one trunk line open tothe outside world, and they areclear with Providence. By cuttingover to the trunk line, they arekeeping Providence in touch withthe outside world! Little EastGreenwich exchange! I rush a 200watt floodlight into the exchangeand floodlight the place. The girlsheave a sigh of relief!

9:00 p.m. Vincent Grant, theexchange electrician tells me thetelephone company’s batteries arelow, and that they may not be ableto keep Providence in touch withthe outside much longer. Have wegot another generator? I think ofBill’s 32 volt, 1720-watt generatorand say yes. We rush a telephonetruck up to the house and get it.Praise Allah it starts, with Bill’shelp. The day is saved, it is chargingthose batteries at a normal rate.

East Greenwich’s shellfishing community on GreenwichCove was also pummeled by hurricane waves. “Scalloptown… was reduced to a shambles by the turbulent waters. Boatsand boathouses were tossed one upon the other by the forceof the waves that reduced docks to kindling” (ProvidenceJournal Company, 1938).

In 1954, Hurricane Carol deluged Rhode Island coastalcommunities, destroying $3 million worth of property inWarwick alone. Six Warwick residents died; houses at Arnold’sNeck, Chepiwanoxet, and Potowomut were destroyed; andthe Apponaug Company literally floated away. In addition tothe natural damage caused by the storm, stores and homeswere looted, and the mayor of Warwick called on the Na-tional Guard to restore order.

Again, rebuilding took place, with each successive,largely storm-free decade bringing increasing development inflood zones around Greenwich Bay. Concentrated shorelinedevelopment has been vulnerable to weaker storms, such as1991’s Hurricane Bob, which inflicted $115 million in state-wide property damage, eroded beaches, and ripped boatsfrom moorings.

By the 1990s, government agancies developed disasterresistance plans to prepare for storms, and in 1997, Warwickwas one of six New England communities selected to partici-pate in the Federal Emergency Management Agency ProjectImpact national hazard mitigation program, which establishedpublic-private efforts that reduce disruption and loss. Warwickand East Greenwich are in the process of adopting hazardmitigation plans.

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Another day enters, Thursday, September22nd, 1938 -12:00 a.m. I tell Chief Miller I will leavethe Cedar Hill Fire Truck with the EastGreenwich Fire Company, in caseanything starts, for the water has goneout of the mains—naturally, there beingno electricity to run the pumps. God,what a catastrophe this is.

1:30 a.m. I rush home for a couple ofhours’ sleep, leaving the generators toVincent’s tender care. I set my alarmclock for 3:30 a.m., as I must be back atmy generators by 4:00 a.m.

4:30 a.m. Finding everything O.K. withthe generators, they’re running smoothly,I beat it for the lunch-cart, and have acup of coffee and two doughnuts.Pharnes stops in from his state truck. Hesays that all of the roads, state roads, areopen to the one-lane traffic now. Heworked all the early part of the night,carrying bodies in his truck, out of SandHill Cove. He says hundreds have losttheir lives. Galilee, Charlestown,Matunuck, Quonochontaug,Misquamicut, Watch Hill, and Westerly

are all wiped out. He says downtownProvidence is a shambles. They had tocall in the militia to stop the looting.

9:00 a.m. I have no sense of time ordate. Everything is timeless. All I knoware those generators are running. LillieMay comes in uniform to report to mefor Red Cross duty. Howard Asp andClarence Duffy say they will look out forthe generators for me. We go to theArmory where Red Cross headquartershave been set up. Mr. Budlong asks meto drive him south, so he can volunteerthe help of the East Greenwich Red Crossto those who may need it.

12:30 p.m. In the Armory at EastGreenwich, the scenes are indescribable.A mother, looking for her son—She andhe were floating on a raft, at QuonsetPoint, when they hit a tree. The motherwas thrown into the tree from the raftand spent the night there. The last shesaw of her son he was floating to sea onthe raft. —A single incidence.

4:00 p.m. Time goes on and on—and thegenerators are running. A small boy wasjust brought into the Armory, sufferingfrom a concussion of the brain. PraiseAllah, it is the mother-in-the-tree’s son!A ray of light in all this darkness.

Saturday, September 24th, 1938. Ireported at Red Cross National Head-quarters in Providence for duty, and wasassigned as Liaison Officer in SouthCounty. Sunday passed, and Monday, Ispent the day working out of thewrecked Charlestown Airport in a TaylorCub monoplane locating drowned bodiesin the ponds and marshes. Tuesday Ipassed working in the Morgue atCharlestown. Wednesday, at the requestof the Rhode Island State Police I took acrew and the portable pumper down toQuonochontaug to try washing awaysome sand in the search for bodies, thatgoes on, and on, and on—One full weekhas passed since this disaster. A week inwhich I have had but twenty hours sleep,and but damn little food. I am aboutexhausted. I have been on duty for theRed Cross 124 hours, and personallychecked 45 persons for the Red Crossthat have been listed as missing—searching Morgues, police lists, etc. Ifonly there was some central organizationrunning this instead of State Police, FireDepartments, Town Police Departments,WPA, CCC, and finally the Red Cross,not to mention the National Guard! Thedanger of another great disaster isbecoming more and more apparent—that of sweeping Forest Fires. I amleaving the Red Cross Service to take upmy work as State Forest Fire Warden. AllI am wondering is where I am going tofind the strength to continue on the job—

Anne Crawford Allen Holst

The 1938HurricaneBecause much ofthe area around

Greenwich Bay islocated in a flood-

plain, the coastalparts of Warwick

and East Greenwichwere subjected to

flood tides measuringmore than 13 feetabove the normalhigh-water level.

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John Dickerson, owner ofApponaug Harbor Marina, can’thelp but think about dredging. Themarina, built by his family onArnold’s Neck in Warwick morethan 40 years ago, has prospered,but the increasing shallowness ofApponaug Cove poses a problem,according to Dickerson.

“Restoring the former depths is anissue for me, and it’s not a newone,” he says. “When it comesdown to it, nobody ever really hasenough water. We’ve worked withit; we’ve always brought in thesmaller boats because of the factwe do have shallow water. But yousee the problem all over—peoplehave bigger boats now, the boatsneed more depth, and it’s pressingthe issue.”

For now, Dickerson, whorecently dredged a portion of hismarina, continues to build hisbusiness. The marina has grownsteadily over the years, asevidenced by Dickerson’s yearlyholiday cards featuring colorfulaerial shots of the site, and willsoon boast 348 slips generallymade to handle smaller vessels.

Shrugging good-naturedly,Dickerson smiles when asked topredict the future of dredging inGreenwich Bay. “Well, I’ve beenin this business a long time now,and I can tell you, this issue isjust going to go on,” he said.“It’s not rocket science—thewater’s shallow and that cutsdown how you can use it. Butit’s tough going. This is a highlyregulated industry.”

5: GEOLOGIC PROCESSESHow people live and work is determined in part by geography.

The push and pull of geologic processes, such as beach erosion anddeposition, have helped shape settlement patterns throughout theGreenwich Bay watershed.

Greenwich Bay’s coastline is made up of rocky shoreline andsandy beaches, with four coves spread along the northern shore, andone cove on the southern shore. Much of the land that stretches awayfrom the shoreline is a delta plain, including Potowomut Neck, whichformed when water from a melting ice sheet deposited sediment into aglacial lake that is now occupied by Narragansett Bay. Hills and sharplyelevated land in western and northern portions of the watershed arecomprised of glacial till deposited beneath the ice sheet. In time, theglacial lake drained and lower sea levels exposed much of the baybottom, allowing early peoples to forage the cold, forested land forfood. As temperatures warmed, the ice sheet melted and recedednorth. Sea level rose dramatically, flooding the bay and drowning partsof the delta plain. A new environment of leafy forests and grassy fieldsresulted, enabling the first inhabitants, the Narragansett Indians, tofarm in the area.

The bay’s geology has provided the foundation for shipping,fishing, manufacturing, and recreation that has drawn people to thearea for centuries. The bay continues to change with natural geologicalprocesses, however, and people have had to adapt to shifting geology.For example, in the late 1700s, the threat of erosion prompted EastGreenwich to offer financial incentives to encourage people to buildwharves.

Shifting shorelines threaten homesand businesses

Storm waves and elevated storm surges create erosion, whichstructurally harms homes and businesses, alters habitats, and washesaway beaches. Efforts to address erosion at places such as OaklandBeach have met with limited success, leaving a wary bay communityto nervously watch the changing coastline.

Sediment deposition has also created concerns, especially amongmarine businesses and boaters who say nature’s continual shoaling ofthe bay floor complicates boat travel. Shoaling was not a problem inthe late 1770s, when Warwick and East Greenwich coves were deepenough to host large cargo and passenger ships. According to a history

When shallow water is adeep problem

Photo left: Upper Warwick Cove

18

of the area, a large schooner “could tie up at (Greenwich Cove’s) JailWharf and some were so big that their bowsprints reached in as faras…the old Shore Mill (on King Street)” (McPartland, 1960).

Dredging is a controversial solutionto deposition, erosion

Coves can be dredged, a seemingly simple proposition.According to Jon Boothroyd, Rhode Island’s state geologist and URIgeosciences professor, dredging is about finding out where sandgoes, going after that sand, and putting it back where it belongs. Butthe task requires many government partners to make sure theenvironment—at both the dredge site and the disposal site—isharmed as little as possible.

When a waterway is dredged, built-up material along thebottom of the passage is scooped out to deepen the channel andmake it easier for boats to pass through. However, dredging maydisturb habitats on the bay floor and stir up pollution. Furthermore,the more contaminated the dredge materials, the more difficult andcostly it is to dispose of them properly.

Dredging has taken place in Warwick and Apponaug coves inthe past, but some projects have been curtailed as the controversyover dredging impacts has intensified. In Greenwich Bay, govern-ment, business, and environmental advocates are discussing dredgingplans for various coves. Some people hope that the dredging projectswill yield clean sediment that can be used for local beachrenourishment.

Potowomut Baker’s Creek

19

20

Scalloptown: Then and Now

21

Epitaph speaks volumes about thedangers of colonial lives

On a Saturday afternoon in November, the stretch ofWest Shore Road that brushes Warwick Cove hums with thesounds of a neighborhood reveling in unexpected warmth.Skateboarding boys exchange boisterous dares that echo offthe local Elks Lodge and compete with slamming car doorsthat signal steady attendance at the yard sale across thestreet. Gearshifting trucks and revving motorcycles some-times obliterate all other sounds on the roadway.

Yet, less than a quarter of a mile from the curb lies R.I.Historic Cemetery #28, a graveyard hidden from sight bythickets of brush and hushed of sound by blankets of leaves.The worn gravestones belong to English families who settledalong the north shore of Greenwich Bay and built War-wick’s first colonial community. Of the several farmhousesthat Warwick founder Samuel Gorton and his followersbuilt here, perhaps the most famous was the StoneCastle of 1649, the only house in the settlement builtcompletely of rock.

Gorton’s farming community was ambivalent aboutits relationship to neighboring Indian tribes. The colonists’struggles were sometimes captured in graphic gravestoneepitaphs. One belongs to John Wickes, a colonist who met agruesome end in 1676 as he and a small band of Warwicksettlers fought off an Indian attack during King Phillip’s War.According to the R.I. Historical Preservation Commission,Wickes met his end when he “imprudently left the protectionof the (Stone) Castle” and suffered decapitation. The tomb-stone for the grave where his head and body rest separately inthe Stone Castle graveyard reads:

1609 – 17 Mar 1676

JOHN WICKES

6: CULTURAL ANDHISTORIC RESOURCES

Greenwich Bay has a rich cultural and historic heritage. Indianpeople established fairly permanent year-round settlements atGreenwich Bay after the rate of sea level rise slowed and the bayassumed its modern form by approximately 3,000 years ago.These settlements focused on the coastal edge but also spreadinland along the waterways. The people prospered from theincredible variety and abundance of wild plants and animals:Oyster, soft-shelled clam and quahog, white-tailed deer,

squirrel, rabbit, bear, weakfish, tautog, turkey, hickory nuts,and acorns were easily obtained in the Greenwich Bay area.

Archaeological evidence from Greenwich Covesuggests that the richness of the environment made it

possible for people to live well without the benefit ofdomestic plants such as maize, at least until shortlybefore contact with Europeans in the 17th century. When

Roger Williams established a trading post at Wickford in the 1630s, theNarragansetts were the dominant political force in the area, with strongsocial and political ties.

History of Warwick, East Greenwichshaped by war

Warwick founder Samuel Gorton, an English clothier withfervent beliefs about freedom from religious and political systems,fought with town leaders and was banished from Plymouth, Mass.,and Portsmouth, Providence, and Pawtuxet before he and a group ofcomrades bought more than 100 square miles of land—Shawomet—from a branch of the Narragansetts. Gorton convinced English royaltyto approve his purchase, and he named his settlement “Warwick” indeference to the earl who granted the official charter in 1647. YetGorton and his followers encountered trouble after they built OldWarwick Village at the head of Warwick Cove.

In 1675 a bloody battle for land began that pitted colonistsagainst Indian tribes. The war ended in 1676 with the murder ofWampanoag leader Metacom, known to the English colonists as KingPhilip. Many Indians were subsequently forced into exile or slavery.After the massacre of King Philip’s War, Apponaug Village becameWarwick’s hub and thrived as a government and military center,shipping port, and mill location.

21

b. (born) Staines England, came to

New England 1635.

An original purchaser of Warwick 1643.

‘In King Phillips War after the town was burnt, on

going out from Thomas Green’s stone castle to look

for his cattle on 17 March 1676 he was slain by

Indians and his head set on a pole.’

Erected by Benjamin Greene Arnold 1881.

22

For a Narragansett Indian childgrowing up on Greenwich Bay hundredsor thousands of years ago, the environ-ment was a natural classroom brimmingwith opportunity and challenge.“Survival was your education,” says EllaSekatau, ethnohistorian and eldermedicine woman of the NarragansettIndian Tribe.

Once a child had lived to the ageof three, he or she was officiallyrecognized as a member of the tribe andushered into a world where physical andmental growth was fostered in formaleducation, work, and play. “When thechildren would play, the games andcontests that were taught to them weredesigned to encourage them to excel. Itwas who could run the fastest, whocould swim the fastest, who could dothe most work, who could catch themost fish. These were games thattaught these children how tosurvive,” Sekatau says.

The NarragansettIndians who lived in theGreenwich Bay areaspent the summers inbayside campsiteswhere they harvestedfish and shellfish.They also hunted,freshwater fished,and grew crops suchas corn. In the winter,the tribe movedinland to escape thebrunt of bad weather,with matriarchal familiesliving and working inwooden longhousescovered with tree barkand insulated with cattailmats and othervegetation.

In all seasons,children learned the

In 1677, the R.I.General Assembly gave landto 48 soldiers who hadfought King Philip’s War,forming the town of EastGreenwich. Ironically, mostof the men chose not tosettle in East Greenwich, butrather in Newport, Ports-mouth, and Jamestown,deeding their grants toyounger members of theirfamilies.

Eventually, EastGreenwich’s natural

attributes attracted shipbuilding, fishing, and textile opera-tions, which fostered the town’s development as a politicaland military center. In 1750, East Greenwich served as a seatof Rhode Island’s colonial government. The town providedelite soldiers, the Kentish Guards, who fought in the Revolu-tionary War and built a key stronghold—Fort Daniel—at theentrance to Greenwich Cove.

One of the country’s first aircraft factories, GallaudetAircraft Corporation, located on Greenwich Bay, was knownduring World War I for its mass-produced Curtiss floatplanes.The company, a precursor to behemoth defense contractorGeneral Dynamics, found the bay a sheltered place to testand launch seaplanes. Flying planes over the bay had itsunpredictable moments, and airplane designer John G. Leerecalls in his memoir the day a plane takeoff had to becanceled. “Somebody began waving frantically at the road.The mechanic saw him and cut the master switch. It seems agroup of little sailboats, which were moored off-shore, had allcapsized from the (plane’s) slip stream!” Though the Hurri-cane of 1938 destroyed the company’s buildings, and noremnants remain, Warwick’s recent purchase of 10 acres ofproperty on Chepiwanoxet Point preserved the site as well assaved valuable open space on the bay.

The era following World War II has shaped the waypeople live in Warwick and East Greenwich today. The

work techniques and arts of theirelders, and were given responsibilitiesearly on that confirmed their place andvalue in the family and the tribe. “Inthe summer, when you were four yearsold, you’d be placed on corn watch,and your job was to keep the birds andanimals away from the crop,” saysSekatau. “Think back to this time—there were a lot of animals around,which is why the Narragansetts placedbrush fences around their crops. So ifyou were a child assigned to cornwatch, you had to watch out for deer—both elk and moose—bears, raccoons,foxes, and coyotes.”

Children grew up in the footstepsof their parents, with girls learning howto care for the land, raise children, andmaintain campsites. Boys followed

their fathers and learnedtrading, hunting, and fishing,as well as how to build thetribe’s winter longhousesand summer round-houses.

Before the intro-duction of debilitatingEuropean diseasessuch as tuberculosisand measles,Narragansett youth

could expect to live

long lives, and

Sekatau claims

many Indians lived

past 100 years.“These

people had longevity, and it

was because of the way they

ate, the way they worked,

the way they lived,” says

Sekatau.

Environment was natural classroom forNarragansetts

23

suburbs that sprang up in that time—thanks to the G.I. Bill that madehomeownership available to returning soldiers—make up the bulk ofresidences in the Greenwich Bay area.

Scalloptown known for more thanshellfish

East Greenwich emerged in the late 1870s as Rhode Island’sleader in scallop production. Shellfishing boomed between 1890 and1913, and Greenwich Cove’s legendary “Scalloptown” generated itsfair share of colorful stories even as it produced astounding shellfishcatches. Shacks built on piles along the waterfront were havens forfights, prostitution, and even murders, according to legend. Overfish-ing, pollution, and public concern about the safety of crime-riddenwharf areas brought about the decline of Scalloptown after its peak inthe 1930s. Today, Scalloptown legends are still passed on by modern-day shellfishermen, who gather in poor weather at a Greenwich Covefishing shanty to swap stories and industry information.

Local people still claim close ties to shellfishing, evidenced by thequahogger statue—complete with a bandana-collared, seafaring dog—gracing the front of the recently renovated Warwick Public Library.

Bay shores serve upsupper and swimming

Recreation has always beck-oned people to the bay. In the early1800s, an abandoned brig at Arnold’sWharf served as a bathing house anddiving board for local children.Travelers came by steamboat or bywagon from the Apponaug Train Depot to the beaches on the Warwickshoreline. In the 1830s, the earliest commercial clambakes, which havebecome a New England tradition, were born in what is now theButtonwoods Beach Historic District. According to the ProvidenceJournal, a clambake held in Old Buttonwoods on July 4, 1840, drewrecord numbers: “Fully ten thousand people were in attendance andtwo hundred bushels of clams, one hundred and thirty bushels ofquahogs, twenty barrels of chowder comprised the menu.” Button-woods Beach is one of several historic districts in the Greenwich Baywatershed in the National Register of Historic Places.

24

Preserving open spacesaves pieces of history

Goddard Park, a nearly 500-acre publicpark of state and national significance, isreknowned not only for its recreational ameni-ties on Potowomut but also for its history.According to the R.I. Division of Parks &Recreation website, the park was originallyNarragansett Indian farming and fishingterritory. The land fell into colonists’ hands in1684, passed to descendents such as Torysympathizer “King Richard” Greene, andeventually served as a private estate for RhodeIsland’s famous Brown, Ives, and Goddardfamilies. Forest care was a pet concern of manyfamily members, including Goddard clanmember Henry C. Russell who, “when walkingabout the grounds … would fill his pocketswith acorns and plant them in holes punchedwith his cane. Three acorns were planted foreach oak … one for the squirrels, one for theworms, and one to grow.” Goddard descen-dents eventually donated the land to RhodeIsland, stipulating the implementation of apermanent forestation program.

The tie between local people and historicand cultural resources is further reflected incommunity projects such as the construction ofa replica of the historic Oakland Beach carousel,a symbol of the beloved and long-goneseashore resort. The challenge for the people ofGreenwich Bay is to find a compromise be-tween the preservation of historic and culturalresources—including the bay itself—and thepursuit of economic opportunities to ensure aviable community for tomorrow.

25

U.S. Coast Guard Commander ThomasJones, of the Coast Guard’s civil engineeringunit in Warwick, is the current resident ofthe Warwick Neck Lighthouse, whichcommands a panoramic view of the mouthof Greenwich Bay from its position at thesouthernmost tip of the peninsula.

“I’ve found it to be a great experience,and so has my family,” says Jones of being alighthouse keeper. Speaking in front of thelooming lighthouse on an autumn Saturdaymorning, Jones reflects on his family’s goodfortune at his post: “My daughter may be alittle too young to fully comprehend thesurroundings we have now, but I think she’llhave some good memories about it.”

Allowing others to bask in the scenicbeauty of the lighthouse site—the green-shuttered clapboard house, the slopingexpanse of lawn, the beacon rising abovecliffs and spray—has become a bit of apersonal pastime for Jones, who gamelywaves curious, often excited, onlookersthrough the opened chain link gate at thetop of the driveway and down to thelighthouse.

Today is no different. “Sure, come ondown!” calls Jones, prompting five camera-toting tourists from Washington, D.C., toeagerly approach the lighthouse. Gatheringaround Jones, the little group receives animpromptu tour of the site, snappingshots of the light-house against thebackdrop of thebay. “Wow, thiswas worth the rideout,” murmurs one

man, craning his neck skyward to take in thetop of the structure.

It’s a sentiment felt by many visitors tothe Warwick Neck Lighthouse. The light-house was built at the mouth of GreenwichBay in 1826 to mark the passage between thepoint at Warwick Neck and the northern partof Patience Island. Rebuilt in 1889 and 1932,the lighthouse had to be moved inland afterthe Hurricane of 1938 left it balancedprecariously on the eroded bank of the Neck.With huge jacks, the beacon was hoistedonto logs and rolled 50 feet inland to itscurrent location.

Like the other officers who havewatched over this treasured light, Jones, whohails from Virginia, knows his family will oneday vacate their keeper digs for a newdestination and tour of duty. That’s just theway of the Coast Guard, indicates Jones,with a good-natured shrug.

Still, he’s proud to call the beacon sitehome for now, and content to share theprominent Greenwich Bay landmark with thecommunity. “People are interested in seeingthe bay and the view from here, and I’mhappy to help them experience it,” he says.“It’s quite a place.”

Coast Guard officer shares cultural beacon with the public

2626

Land-use patterns and

economies of the Greenwich

Bay watershed are the

products of people’s interac-

tions with the bay and their

dependence on its resources.

27

7: LAND USE ANDECONOMY

Land-use patterns and economies of the Greenwich Baywatershed are the products of people’s interactions with the bay andtheir dependence on its resources. The Narragansett Indians coinedshell money, or wampum, and used the currency to buy goods suchas metals and stone from other North American tribes. “TheNarragansett Indians would primarily barter or trade for items, butwhen you didn’t have anything to barter or trade, that’s when theshell money was brought in,” says Sekatau.

Basic needs for food and safe water travel drove Indians andEuropean settlers alike to live and farm near the bay, and theNarragansetts played a major role in shaping colonial settlements inthe 1600s. Colonists secured land from the Indians, but the transac-tions were typically fraught with mistrust, and uneasy alliances werecomplicated by inner fractures within tribes and settler groups.Tensions between the Indians and the settlers ebbed and flowed, butworsened as the Narragansetts lost more land and environmentalassets. The colonists, says Sekatau, failed to respect the tribes’ecological practices that were critical for maintaining environmentalbalance in the bay area. “They could not understand the under-growth burning, the practices of planting crops, or the benefits of notdefiling the waters. The colonists did not understand that the movingof habitats periodically placed minimum demands on the ecosystems…The colonists had a different understanding of labor and wealth,”and thus, “the goal was to make the areas look like what they hadleft behind in Europe,” Sekatau says.

After King Philip’s War, when the land that became EastGreenwich was deeded to soldiers who had fought in the war, the R.I.General Assembly recognized the need to settle new communities inclose proximity to the bay, and encouraged their development, com-plete with “convenient highways” (McPartland, 1960). In time, water-front villages grew as shipping, shellfishing, and manufacturing indus-tries created jobs and a niche for bay communities in the world market.

Together, shipping, including the slave trade, travel, shellfishing,and manufacturing, accelerated growth of bustling bayside villagesfrom the late 1700s through the early 1900s. The East Greenwichwaterfront along Greenwich Cove “was the scene of much activitythen, wagons rattling down King Street loaded with all sorts of

Public access toGreenwich Bay

Access to the shore is an essential part of theheritage of the people of the Ocean State. The RhodeIsland Constitution specifically protects citizens’ rights tofish from the shore, to gather seaweed, to leave the shoreto swim in the sea, and to walk along the shore. In RhodeIsland, state waters of public domain extend from meanhigh water three miles out to sea. Above mean high water,land and resources can be, and often are, privately owned.

There are numerous rights-of-way to the shoreline ofGreenwich Bay. In addition to state and municipal beachesand parks, there are many other points along the shorelinewhere the public may view, fish, boat, or swim the waters

of Greenwich Bay, including grassy paths, streetsending at the

shoreline, boatramps, andboardwalks.

28

“I recently had an epiphany,”muses Michael McGiveney, presidentof the R.I. Shellfishermen’s Association(RISA), a warm smile spreading slowlyacross his bearded face. “I wasbreaking up the ice on my way out ofthe harbor, and before I know it, I’mhumming that song, “Stir It Up,” and Iwatched this incredible sunrise, and itwas just the best feeling. I know allover again why I fell in love with this.”

Shellfishing is in McGiveney’sblood. His shellfishing grandparentsproudly provided a scallopboat displayto the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893,and his uncle, a shellfishing unionrepresentative, introduced him to thebusiness more than 20 years ago.

McGiveney spent his youth livingon the Warwick-East Greenwich line,buying his first shellfishing boat at age12 with his paper route money. Hequickly developed a flair forshellfishing, reveling in the physicaldemands of the job, the beauty of theenvironment, the good-naturedcamaraderie of competing fishermen,and the steady flow of money thatrewarded him for his catches.

The URI political science majorearned good grades that beckoned himto consider a law career, butMcGiveney couldn’t quite give up hischildhood fascination with shellfishing.“My professors weren’t even makingwhat I made,” he says, laughing.“Hey—quahogging was good business.

freight; messengers a-foot speeding to reach the captain andhand him messages to be delivered (often in person);carriages with packet passengers dressed in their finery forthe occasion” (McPartland, 1960).

Federal embargoes, the War of 1812, and the arrival ofthe railroad dampened business at the shipping ports, buttextile manufacturing and shellfishing prospered from the late1770s through the early 1900s. Tanneries, clothmakers,fulling mills, fabric printers, cotton mills, and shipbuilderswere among the manufacturing firms that grew in EastGreenwich and Warwick and provided jobs for residents,including immigrants from Ireland, Sweden, and Italy. “Thesituation is healthy and pretty—good for help and cheap forliving and as fine a location as any other for Steam CottonMills,” wrote textile proprietor Edward D. Bolt, laudingApponaug as an ideal location for a print works operation inthe mid–1800s (D’Amato, 1992).

Until Prohibition was repealed in 1933, liquor-smug-gling aboard ships such as the notoriously evasive EastGreenwich–based Black Duck made fortunes for bootleggers.As waterfront businesses—from shellfishing to smuggling—declined, manufacturing grew to drive the economy in EastGreenwich and Warwick, increasing land use. Large-scaleconsumption of land for residential and commercial expan-sion escalated significantly after World War II. This slow butsteady conversion of commercial and subsistence farms topost-war suburban neighborhoods yielded patchworkdevelopment that prompted local governments to createzoning laws. While fledgling ordinances addressed develop-ment in new residential and business areas, they did little toprotect older villages, shorelines, and farmland.

Glaring zoning failures were not lost upon the commu-nity. An article in a 1941 edition of the Providence EveningBulletin describes the impact of mismatched land uses:“Officially, Warwick is a city (but) it has not quite made up itsmind whether to become a full-fledged city or remain the halfcountry town and half city it is today. Except for the partsimmediately bordering Cranston, Warwick usually presents apicture of a fully developed settlement on one side of the

And I’d always been a hard worker andI loved being my own boss. I realizedthat this was what I wanted to do. Itwas what I had to do.”

McGiveney worked hard, and heand his wife eventually built a home inCoventry where they now raise theiryoung family.

Newspaper clippings spreadacross his kitchen table recall theprecarious time in 1992 when the stateimposed a Greenwich Bay shellfish banafter a major winter storm washedcrippling amounts of pollution fromfailing septic systems and roadwaysinto the water.

The closeout initially promptedwaves of fear and anger, saysMcGiveney. The local industry suffered$1 million in losses, and hundreds offishermen reluctantly abandoned theirjobs for work that could feed familiesand pay mounting bills. The collapse ofthe industry also sent boat repair, dock,mooring, and engine businessesscurrying for customers.

Watching friends leave theprofession was hard, but McGiveneytold himself throughout the ordeal thatthere would be ways to help the localshellfishermen and the bay get back ontrack. With his background in policyand law, McGiveney found himselfincreasingly involved in the politics ofthe industry, becoming a practicedlobbyist and finally, RISA president in1995.

“Young blood” and smart partnershipsare keys to bay economic vitality

29

street and a dairy farm or market garden onthe other. The dreams of many a city workerare interrupted in the early morning by thecrowing of roosters and the lowing of cows”(R.I. Historic Preservation Commission,1981).

Today, East Greenwich and Warwickhave taken steps to be more selective inassigning land uses and choosing develop-ment projects. Municipal planning and

zoning boards participate in training workshops so they can learn howto use new planning tools and help elected officials make informeddecisions.

The communities have also invested in open-space purchases.Between 1994 and 2001, Warwick partnered with governmentagencies and private organizations to allocate more than $5 million toseven open-space purchases totaling 247 acres. In East Greenwich,the local land trust has helped protect nearly 300 acres since 1987,

working with the town on public-private efforts.Today, Greenwich Bay shellfishing contributes roughly $4

million annually to Rhode Island’s economy. Marinas andother marine-based businesses along Greenwich Bay are

also significant economic contributors. Keeping thesebusinesses thriving is important not only to the

business community but also to Warwick, EastGreenwich, and the state. Government leaders areworking to balance economic vitality, communitydevelopment, and natural resource protection forGreenwich Bay. Elements include marine-based

industries such as recreational boating and fishing,waterfront tourism, boat building and outfitting, shipbuilding,

fishing, aquaculture, and marine transportation. The R.I. EconomicPolicy Council is promoting the long-term, responsible use ofNarragansett Bay resources, and the state Senate and House policyoffices are working together to help local communities build a marinebusiness cluster that creates jobs and revenues while protecting naturalresources.

Though post-1992Greenwich Bay couldn’tcontinue to support 3,000shellfishermen, the resourcehas steadily supported 1,200licensed shellfishermen, ofwhom about 300 to 400 areregularly active, saysMcGiveney: “I think there’sgood work going on tomaintain Greenwich Bay asa stable resource.” He laudsa RIDEM program that has, with RISA assistance, transferredhealthy young shellfish to clean beds in the bay. And he ishopeful that the local industry will continue to foster dialogueswith acquaculture interests in the state, including seedinginitiatives stemming from Roger Williams University.

Today, McGiveney says, the local industry faces thechallenges of bringing in “young blood” to curtail what hewryly describes as “the graying of the bay,” and developingnew technologies and partnerships that will support transplantand seeding projects. Both are doable, he says, and both arenecessary. “We must—and I think we can—maintain a stable and healthy environment inGreenwich Bay that can support resourcessuch as shellfish,” says McGiveney.“If we can support the resource,then we’re going to be able togrow the industry, bring newblood in, and strengthen thecommercial fabric that hasgrown up aroundshellfishing.”

3030

The development of the Greenwich Bay

Special Area Management Plan (SAMP)

brings together government partners with

community members to create a plan to

protect and manage Greenwich Bay for

future generations.

Does the sound of the seaEnd at the shoreOr in the heartsOf those who listen to it?

—Harold Blackwood

31

Community involvement and partnerships between stateand local governments are the cornerstones of SAMPs. CRMC isundertaking the Greenwich Bay SAMP with the town of EastGreenwich and the city of Warwick. Partners include RIDEM,the R.I. Department of Health, the R.I. Economic DevelopmentCorporation, the Warwick Sewer Authority, RIMTA, RISA, SaveThe Bay, the Natural Resources Conservation Service, and theSouthern Rhode Island Conservation District.

The goal of the partnership is to develop a managementplan for Greenwich Bay that reflects community input, considerswatershed boundaries rather than municipal ones, and recom-mends protection actions that can be undertaken through acollaborative government effort. Policies recommended by theSAMP for improved management of Greenwich Bay are ex-pected to be adopted into the state’s Coastal Resources Man-agement Plan and watershed management policies, as well asmunicipal comprehensive plans and harbor management plans.

With the support of the R.I. General Assembly, CRMCsecured a federal grant in 2002 to oversee the creation of theGreenwich Bay SAMP. Rhode Island Sea Grant/CRC, which hasdeveloped several SAMPs for CRMC since 1980, is conductingthe SAMP with assistance from local, state, and federal agenciesand other organizations.

8: Special Area Management Planning

A fish kill in Greenwich Bay inAugust 2003 due to a lack ofoxygen in the water underscoredthe importance of addressing themyriad factors affecting waterquality in the bay.

Michael Tikoian, CRMC ChairmanGrover Fugate, CRMC Executive DirectorCRMC is the state regulatory andmanagement agency responsible forpreservation, protection, development,and restoration of the coastal areas ofRhode Island, and for designatingrights-of-way to the coast.Oliver Stedman Government Center4808 Tower Hill Road, Suite 3Wakefield, R.I. 02879(401) 783-3370www.crmc.state.ri.us

William SequinoEast Greenwich Town ManagerTown of East Greenwich125 Main StreetEast Greenwich, RI 02818(401) 886-8665www.eastgreenwichri.com

Scott AvedisianMayor of WarwickCity of Warwick3275 Post RoadWarwick, RI 02886(401) 738-2000www.warwickri.com

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D’Amato, D. (1992). Warwick’s 350-YearHeritage: A Pictorial History. The DonningCompany Publishers, Virginia Beach, Va.

D’Amato, D. (1998). The Walking Tour ofHistoric Apponaug Village: City of Warwick.Warwick Economic Development Depart-ment Tourism Office, Warwick, R.I.

D’Amato, D. (2000). Historic Warwick: AGuide to Warwick’s Historic Homes.Warwick Economic Development Depart-ment Tourism Office, Warwick, R.I.

Federal Emergency Management Agency.1999 Project Impact—Building a Disaster-Resistant Community: Project Impact Worksto Prevent Hurricane Damage. Available atwww.app1.fema.gov/impact/pi0823.htm.

Holst, A.C.A. (1938). Excerpted journalentry.

Lee, J. (1984). It Should Fly Wednesday: Rec-ollections of an Airplane Designer. MysticPublications, Inc.

McPartland, M. (1960). The History of EastGreenwich, Rhode Island 1677–1960 withRelated Genealogy. East Greenwich Free Li-brary Association, East Greenwich, R.I.

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The Providence Journal. (1938). “The GreatHurricane and Tidal Wave, Rhode Island, Sep-tember 21, 1938.” Providence, RI: The Provi-dence Journal Company.

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R.I. Department of Environmental Manage-ment. (2000). History of Goddard MemorialState Park. In R.I. Department of Environmen-tal Management Division of Parks & Recre-ation Website www.riparks.com.

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32

9: References

3

The challenge is to find a

compromise between the

preservation of historic and

cultural resources—

including the bay itself—

and the pursuit of economic

opportunities to ensure a

viable community for

tomorrow.

4